


Points Of View

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Friendship, Love, M/M, POV First Person, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: Just a random one-shot set in the One Step At A Time series (that, granted, was never meant to be a series, but oh well...)





	Points Of View

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Narrated by Will, self-beta'd.  
> ~ Yes. You need to have read One Step At A Time for this to make sense.
> 
> ~ Written, well, ages ago, and posted now by way of saying 'thank you' to the kind people who have recently been leaving kudos on One Step At A Time. (So... Yes. Thank you!)
> 
> ~ And... Uh-huh. I'm still sulking over the casting of the new movie. :-(

============  
Points of View  
by TalithaX  
============

 

“Jane thought you could possibly do with some company,” Benji announces, flashing me a tentative, possibly even mildly cautious smile as I look up from the laptop in order to gaze at him as he stands, flat footed and awkward in the doorway that connects the two hotel rooms we're currently based in. “Knowing that you're nothing if not predictable in the time it takes you to do things, she thought that you'd probably have finished your report and general reading up on today's intel by now and...” Trailing off, he holds up the bottle of half empty scotch in his hand and looking, it just has to be said, as though he could think of a thousand and one places he'd rather be, walks a little further into the room. “Yeah... As I just said, she thought you might like some company.”

“Don't tell me, let me guess,” I mutter as, leaning back against the sofa, I reluctantly gesture at Benji to take a seat, “you drew the short straw.”

“Paper beats rock, actually,” he replies almost apologetically. “I could have sworn that Jane always starts with scissors, and, well, thought I had her covered with rock, but...”

“She outplayed you.”

“Outsmarted me, more like. But, hey...” Hiding his obvious discomfort behind a smile that's as forced as it is fake, Benji walks over to the sideboard by the television set and picks up a crystal tumbler. “I don't suppose I could tempt you to join me?” he queries, lightly clinking the glass against the scotch bottle. “While God knows I'm no connoisseur, Jane's assured me that this is, and I quote, 'the good stuff', and...”

“Thanks, but I'm good,” I reply with a lacklustre shrug as, groping around on the sofa, I find my bottle of water and hold it up for him to see. “Please, though...” I once again gesture at the armchair. “Don't let me stop you.”

“Oh, believe me, I wasn't going to,” Benji retorts, pouring a generous amount of scotch into his glass before placing the bottle on the sideboard and walking over to the armchair. Taking a seat, he toasts me with his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I echo, twisting the lid off my bottle and taking a small sip of water. “You know, as much as I appreciate...”

“Save it,” he interrupts, bringing the glass up to his lips and taking what looks to be a very much needed mouthful of scotch. “I'm here now and... if it helps, hanging out here with you is... still... the lesser of two evils.”

“Lesser of two evils, huh?”

“Mmm... As in... If I walk back through that door before Ethan returns, Jane will probably have my balls.”

“Aaah... So long as I know where I stand.”

“I'd say with the fate of my balls in your hand, but... Uh...” Falling abruptly silent as he suddenly remembers just who it is he's talking to here, Benji takes another sip of scotch and flashes me a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Sorry. I... Uh... At the risk of further putting my foot in it here, I've just got to say that it's moments like this that I really wish you still drank.”

“And... it's moments like this that makes me glad that I don't,” I murmur, returning the lid to my bottle and rolling it aimlessly between my palms. “Not, I hasten to add, because of anything you've said, but... No. I... I just can't. Not now. I mean, if I started I'm not entirely sure I'd be able to stop.”

“Will...” Frowning, Benji quickly finishes the rest of his scotch and, after putting the empty glass down on the edge of the coffee-table, leans forward and lightly places his hand on my knee. “Don't do this to yourself,” he states plainly. “I can hardly even imagine what it is that must be going through your head at the moment, but... Seriously. Don't. There's nothing to...”

“Don't?” I interrupt, shooting him, even though I know he doesn't deserve it, a look of absolute disbelief as I move my knee out from under his hand and, so as to discourage any further attempts at wanting to offer me a reassuring, comforting touch, shift further along the sofa. “Benji, I... How can I... not... think about it, huh? It... It's just wrong.”

All of it. Everything. It's just wrong,and I hate, can even feel myself being consumed by, the fact that there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

This is both the life we've all chosen for ourselves, and what we do.

We...

… Go above and beyond

… Do the unthinkable.

… Suppress our own emotions and beliefs for what we hope is the greater good.

… Do whatever it takes to achieve the goals IMF have charged us with.

And we do it because we know that we have to.

Soldier on. Put up the good fight.

Take one for the team.

That is...

… Some of us do.

Some of us do it even without thinking about it. If it has to be done in order to move the mission forward, then... it just has to be done. End of story. It may not be pleasant, there's usually more than a fair chance that it will be risky, but things like this don't even get to factor in to the decision making process as...

There's no decision to be made.

If it has to be done, then – so be it – Ethan will do it. He'll go out there and, all in the name of the organisation he's devoted half of his life to, he'll do whatever it takes to succeed.

I admire him. Hell, it's times like this that I'd even go so far to say I'd give just about anything to... be him. Brilliant, close to unflappable, dedicated, calm – externally at least – in the face of adversity, both willing and able to...

… Take one for the team.

Or, as the case may be in this instance, take one...

… For me.

I might, that is, I've been trying to convince myself that I would be, be willing to do it, but I...

I just don't know if I'd actually be... able... to.

Logic screams at me that, given my history, of course I could do it. Having been a whore, albeit an unwilling, captive one, for five, or six, if you count the month of training I had to endure first, months, simply seducing someone in order to plant listening devices and gather intelligence would have to be a proverbial walk in the park. In and – pun very much not intended – out within the hour, the knowledge that the team would be waiting for me and that I was, essentially, safe, all very straight forward and... vanilla.

Again. It's just a position all field agents have been put in at one time or another. I may not like it, but sex is its own form of currency. With it, you can get what you want. It can open doors and get you into places far more easily than access to blueprints and alarm codes ever could. In a lot of cases, it simply saves time. If you can make yourself appear desirable to your target then half the work of getting close to them is already done. It's just how it is and, knowing that the mission always outweighed my own objections, I'd even made my peace with it. I didn't like it, not because I was a prude or subscribed to some sort of romantic notion of sex being something that could only ever take place between two people who both loved, and were committed to, one another, but because, to me anyway, there was just something... unpalatable... about it. Not the act itself, because it's not as though I ever used to have a problem with one night stands, but the sheer, unavoidable fact that all we were really doing was using each other. A means to an end, in other words. I wanted something from the target, and he or she wanted something – physically – from me. It was always cold, emotionless and had far more to do with a simple... transaction... than it did anything else.

I could, because I knew it was what was expected of me, do it, but I never liked it. Some agents, especially those who haven't yet been out in the field and whose heads are full of thoughts of actually being paid to have no strings attached sex, think it's great. A perk of the job, even. To me though, it was always a chore, something that, if I could, I'd actively avoid as it always left me feeling curiously empty afterwards. Used, too.

So... Yes. Been there, done that. Both with a reluctant degree of 'it's my job, I have to do it' willingness, and... completely unwillingly. I've, although it feels like a lifetime ago, both seduced targets and used my body to get what I wanted from them, and, just – for something entirely different – over two years ago now, I... spent six months held captive as a sex slave.

So... 

I...

I know sex. I know it both too well, and in far, far too much detail. I know the lengths some will go in order to bring their deepest, darkest, and most perverted desires to life. I know the true meaning of... endurance, and... pain, and... sick and twisted creativity.

I know, having been there, the worst a man can put me through.

And I know that I can survive it.

If I can survive being repeatedly raped and the the likes of Spencer and his predilection for both electricity and coffins, then...

I like to think I can survive anything. Been there, done that, and have both the mental and physical scars to show for it.

Only...

I'm just not so sure that I... could... go through with it. Logic tells me that, while it wouldn't be pleasant, I'd have to be able to do it because, simply put, I've done it before. I've experienced the invasive touch of stranger's hands on my bare skin and, although it's not a claim I make with any degree of pride, I honestly doubt that there's a single thing that could be done to the most intimate parts of my body that hasn't already been done before.

It would just be sex. Granted, it would be with someone I didn't actually want to be with, but I...

I'd have to be able to go through with it. Right?

Be naked, and vulnerable, and at the mercy of someone who didn't know me and who wouldn't care about what I was going through.

I...

Oh God.

I can't.

Just thinking about it. Hell, the mere thought of standing naked in front of anyone other than Ethan, let alone contemplating the invasive feel of another's hands caressing my skin, it...

It literally makes me feel ill. I can tell myself that it's just sex all I like. Just as I can try to be blasé and convince myself that, having experienced it all before, I could simply take giving my body over to another in the name of IMF in my stride, as...

Ethan's right.

Proving that he knows me better than I know myself, I very much doubt that I... could... actually go through with it. Maybe, although I'm not sure I'd even be able to make it this far, I'd be able to survive taking my clothes off in front of him. Maybe, if I focussed really hard on suppressing the rising panic, I could even make it past his gaze roaming across my naked body. But... Letting him place his hands where only Ethan's have any right to be, or having him want to kiss me, I just honestly don't think I could go through with it.

And Ethan, who's out there right now putting himself through what I couldn't, knows it. He knows, despite my protests about wanting to pull my weight and it only being sex, that I wouldn't have a snowflake's chance in hell of pulling it off.

Too fragile. Too much baggage. In need of protecting.

On paper at least, I'm as much a well trained, highly dangerous and effective field agent as Ethan is. Yet, without a word of complaint or, indeed, much of a comment about it at all, he's out there having to seduce a male target because the other member of his team who should be best suited to the task simply... can't do it. Benji isn't, although he nervously said he'd give it a go if Ethan needed him to, bisexual, so that ruled him out, and as the target isn't bisexual either, that ruled Jane out, so...

I should have been a viable candidate for the task. 

Ethan shouldn't have had to take it on himself.

But he did. And I'm as grateful to him for it as I am full of self-loathing.

My lover, who already had enough on his plate as it, is having to whore himself to our target because, and there's no two ways of looking at it, his team didn't really leave him any other choice.

And it's just not right.

None of it is.

Benji and Jane I can, given our target's very clear preferences, forgive. It's not, after all, their fault that they weren't able to be considered for the task. I just can't, however, forgive myself as not being able to shoulder some of Ethan's load in this instance... is... my fault.

Not man enough. Not strong enough.

Perhaps not even fit to be in the field.

I wish I could, but I can't just wave a magic wand and make either what's happening now or my past go away, and nor can I... man up... and, both willingly and confidently, put myself in Ethan's place. Seriously. Caught between a rock and hard place had nothing on it. Too caught up in the mass of oppressive thoughts running in a relentless loop through my head, I can't even plaster on a suitably bland smile and play nice for Benji, who I know, despite his uncertainty and general discomfort, is only here because he genuinely wants to try to help me. In his own way he, as I'm sure does Jane, knows, at least vaguely, what I have to be going through at the moment, and he's here, even if it is courtesy of losing a round of Rock, Paper, Scissors, because he's my friend and wants to help.

I know that, and, although I doubt I'll have it in me to show it any time soon, I appreciate the gesture even if I can't appreciate his company.

“Benji, I...”

“I get that it's ridiculously easy for me to say. I also get that, hey, it's probably not even my place to say it, but...” Sighing, Benji gets to his feet and walks over to the sideboard. “Will... Listen to me,” he continues, picking up the scotch bottle and placing it on the coffee-table before sinking back down into the armchair and fixing me with a solemn look. “You can't do this to yourself. Ethan's out there doing what he has to do for the mission and that, when you break it down, is all there is to it.”

“It...” I hear what Benji's saying. There's even a part of me that accepts it as irrefutable fact. It just doesn't change anything though. He's out there doing what he has to for the mission because...

… I can't.

And, damn it, it just isn't right.

“It should be me,” I murmur, dropping the water bottle down on to the sofa and rubbing my temples with my fingers as Benji pours himself another glass of scotch. “I... possess the same qualifications as Ethan does for this particular task and... and he should have been able to rely on me to play my part.”

“I know you two are usually like two peas in a pod,” Benji replies, once again toasting me with his glass before bringing it to lips and taking a quick sip, “but in this case I don't think you're on the same page as Ethan at all. In fact, I doubt you're even close.”

“It should be me,” I repeat flatly as, deliberately ignoring his attempt at being the voice of reason, I rest my head against the back of the sofa and gaze up at the ceiling. “It's only right that, as team leader, he should be able to expect all the members of his team to be up to...”

“What about me, then?” he interrupts. “Seeing as it's pretty clear you're stuck on this path, shouldn't...”

“You're not in to men,” I counter. “So, no. There's no reason you should have been considered for it.”

“And you're not...”

Sitting up a little straighter as, no doubt once again realising just who it is he's having the misfortune of talking to, Benji trails off, I look over at him and watch as he swallows half of the scotch left in his glass in a hurried gulp. “I'm not... what... exactly, Benji?” I query in a cool tone. “Normal? Up for it? Quite right?”

“Will, I...” Looking more and more anxious by the second, Benji shakes his head and tries his hardest to placate me with an apologetic smile. “I didn't mean...”

“It's okay, Benji,” I mutter, cutting him off, “you can say it, you know. If it helps, I very much doubt there's a single thing you could say about me that I haven't already thought of myself.”

Sighing, he finishes his scotch and, after only a second's hesitation, pours himself out yet another glass. “You... Will, you're... Uh...” Pausing, he shrugs and, I suspect in the name of Dutch courage, takes a mouthful of his drink. “You're, and, oh God, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but... You're special...”

“Special?” I repeat with both a dry snort and a quick shake of my head. “Special needs, more like.”

“That's not what I meant...” Pausing again, Benji sighs heavily and slumps against the back of the armchair. “You're not making this very easy, you know,” he adds quietly. “I know, and, again, you mightn’t think I have any right to say this, but I do, that is, I have a fair idea of what it is you're going through and... Listen to me, Will. Please. There's just nothing to be achieved from it. Ethan's doing what it is he feels he has to do and that's all there is to it.”

“It should be me,” I whisper, more to myself than Benji as, turning my head slightly, I gaze down at my laptop on the coffee-table. “Ethan shouldn't have to take this on himself because...”

“Okay. Fine. You win!” Benji exclaims, leaning forward and slamming his once again empty glass somewhat forcefully down on to the table. “You're right. Of course you're right. Ethan should have... uh... an understudy for things like this, but... As you've already pointed out though, I'm out of the equation because I've never seduced another man in my life and wouldn't even know where to start. Now, Jane, she's out as well because she possesses the wrong sort of genitalia, which... Hey. Leaves you. You're it.”

“Exactly! I'm the one who should be able to...”

“But... Could you?”

“I...” Taken a little back by the plainness of Benji's question, I shrug and, although it takes a fair bit of effort on my part, glance over at him. “I'm gay, and... uh... have probably experienced everything there is to experience in terms of... uh...”

“That's not what I asked and you know it,” Benji states as, giving up on his glass, he takes a swig of scotch straight from the bottle. “What I want to know is whether you honestly feel as though you could cope with being in Ethan's current position.”

“I... Logic states that...”

“Uh! I don't want logic, I want the truth.”

“I...” Dropping my gaze, I give a small shake of my head and sigh. Fine. As he seems both adamant on this point and as though he has no intention of giving up, he can have it. “I keep telling myself that of course I could do it, that... with my background it would be nothing, but... Oh God, Benji, I... I just don't think that I... would... be able to do it. Just the thought of it, it... it makes my skin crawl and I... I hate myself for it. I hate putting Ethan in a position where he feels as though he has to protect me, and I hate knowing that I can't fully play my part, that I'm... lacking...”

“You're wrong, you know,” Benji murmurs as, keeping a tight hold on his bottle of scotch, he gets up and takes a seat next to me on the sofa. “If you felt as though you had to do it, you could.”

Feeling increasingly short of breath, I shake my head again and give Benji a beseeching look. “You're wrong,” I whisper. “Weren't you listening? Didn't you hear a word that I just said? I couldn't. I... I want to be able to, and I know that I... should... be able to, but...”

“If you had to do it,” he interrupts, slinging his arm around my shoulders and, even as I stiffen at his touch, pulling me closer, “if there was no other way or... it was what it was going to take to save Ethan or protect the team, then... You could do it. Will, you're the strongest person any of us know. In fact, you're incredible and I know, just as we all do, that there's not a single thing you couldn't do if you had to. It's just...” Trailing off, he tightens his arm around me and, as I stare at him wide-eyed, flashes me a lopsided grin. “In this case you... don't... have to do it. Regardless of his reasons for doing it, it's something Ethan's willingly put his hand up for, and... Look. Again. It's just how it is, so... Unless you're going to change tack here and suddenly tell me that your real issue is actually one of simple jealousy, just... Cheer up and think happy thoughts.”

“Jealousy?” I echo weakly as, squirming away from Benji, I press myself up against the arm of the sofa. While it may just be down to all the alcohol in his system, Benji's being strangely perceptive tonight and I don't quite know what I make of it. On one hand, hearing someone else's take on things is, not, mind you, that I'm giving any sign of this being the case, both food for thought and comforting. I mean, perhaps he's right and, if the stakes were high enough, I could do it. Granted, it's not a way I've viewed things before, but, thinking about it now, I like to think that he'd be right. For Ethan or the team, yes, I'm sure that I could do it. It would still be hard, and I'm not sure about the state I'd be in afterwards, but if it meant protecting those I care about, then... Definitely. Benji's right, and I really do feel in his debt for having been able to put a new slant on things.

On the other hand though...

Jealous.

He's right, although perhaps not in the way he's likely thinking, on that point too.

I am jealous.

Which, along with everything else, is also wrong.

“Yeah. Jealous,” Benji murmurs, shrugging as he brings the bottle up to his lips for and takes another mouthful of scotch. “You know, of Miller. He is, after all, getting to...”

“I'm not jealous of Miller,” I state, referring to our target, the man Ethan's had to be with tonight and who, in my grand scheme of things anyway, is hardly worth so much as a second thought. Sure, he's our lead in to the bigger picture, the shady world of espionage we're currently working to take down, but other than that he's... just a man. Average looking, no skeletons in his closet or predilections for liking to either rough up or... tie up... his sexual partners that we've been able to uncover and, all in all, of no real interest other than providing a means to an end. Of course I wish there'd been a way to get to him other than having to play the seduction card, and it goes without saying that I could live without all the internal angst he's causing me, but at the end of the day Trent Miller is far from being my biggest problem.

“No? Then who else is there that you could be jealous of?” Benji queries, giving me a funny look as he swirls around what's left of the scotch in the bottle. “Besides, I was only joking. You know, trying to change the subject a little.”

“And yet you were still right,” I reply as I keep my gaze fixed on the amber liquid as it moves around in the bottle in preference to running the risk of accidentally making eye contact with Benji. “I... Ethan. It's actually Ethan that I'm jealous of,” I confess in a faint tone that, as I should have expected if I'd stopped to think about it, causes Benji to shift closer in order to hear me better. “Miller, he might be the catalyst for all of this, but I... Believe it or not, I don't care about him and it really is Ethan that I'm jealous of.”

“Ethan? What...” Making a strange little exasperated sound, Benji takes a quick mouthful of scotch before placing the bottle on the coffee-table and, after shifting forward, giving me his undivided attention. “What are you talking about? Surely you're not jealous of Ethan having to go out there and pick up Miller? I mean, that... That just doesn't make any sense to me. Ethan, he's your... uh...”

“I'm jealous of the fact he... can,” I whisper, rubbing my palms along my thighs for a few seconds before folding my hands in my lap and staring down at them. “He can go out there and seduce a stranger, and I... I know it probably sounds stupid, but I'm jealous of this. He... He's confident enough in his body, in... himself, to just go out there and do what needs to be done, and...” Falling silent, I shrug and, not wanting to see Benji's expression, continue gazing at my hands. 

I could go on, but having, I suspect, already over-shared enough with Benji tonight, I'm not going to. He's my friend and I've known him for a long time, but there's just no way he needs to know that...

… I'm also afraid.

Afraid of what Ethan will get out of his encounter with Miller. 

Spontaneity? Hot, no holds barred sex? A good fuck? A reminder of how great it can be to have sex with someone that doesn't – figuratively, if not on occasion literally as well – need their hand held the entire time? Having it brought home to him what he's...

… Missing out on by being with me.

Let's face it. I'm far from spontaneous, probably give vanilla a bad name, and, while it's not something we ever really talk about, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be up for being fucked again.

I'm...

… Not up for much, actually.

It's just how it is. Regardless of how much I might love and trust Ethan, things can only go so far before... it all gets too much for me and I – lose it – can't go any further. I can tell myself that it's fine, that he's not going to hurt me and that I'm just being pathetic, but it's not enough. It's never enough. If, however innocently or inadvertently, I'm taken out of my not exactly broad comfort zone, then...

… I'm back there.

I can see Ethan, and I can tell myself that I'm safe, but the memories still threaten to swamp me and I can't, I just can't push through with it.

And I worry.

I worry that there will come a time when Ethan realises that, as I'm unlikely to ever going to change, he's bored with me.

I'm not hot, or sexy, and... I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

And surely there will come a time, possibly even after having enjoyed a casual fuck with a target, Ethan just has to come to this conclusion himself.

“Okay. So you're jealous of Ethan,” Benji declares, the sound of his voice shocking me back in to the here and now and causing me to turn my head in order to give him a blank, befuddled look. “I get it. Here's a news flash for you though. Hey. I'm jealous of Ethan too,” he continues perhaps a little too cheerfully as he tries to both get through to me and capture my attention. “I mean, what's not to be jealous of, yeah? IMF's top agent. Brilliant. Possesses a complete disregard for both heights and, in far too many cases, his own safety. Hell. I'm even jealous of what he has with you! Uh...” Blinking owlishly at me, he shakes his head and pulls a face. “Oh God, that... so... came out wrong. So, so... very... wrong.”

“You don't say,” I murmur drily as, not entirely sure I quite know where Benji thinks he's going with this, I give him an enquiring look and wait for him to go on.

“Uh... Don't get me wrong, Will, I love you, I really do, but... uh... not in that sort of way,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “What I meant to say was... I'm jealous of the relationship and... closeness... the pair of you have. Against all the odds, you found each other and... you make it work, and, believe me here, I just find it fantastic. I've never met two people who have brought out the best in each other like you two have.”

“Benji, I think you're...”

“No. Listen to me,” he states, cutting me off as, smiling broadly, he really warms to his theme. “I've known both of you for years and I know what you were like before you met. You were dutifully doing as you were told and bouncing from field work to being in the office, and... you were treading water. Now, don't try to argue with me here as you were. You went about your business and that was just that. I could be wrong, although I doubt it, but I think you were too stuck in a rut to... even have the energy to know you were stuck in a rut!”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I reply, caught, not for the first time this evening, by both his perceptiveness and uniquely Benji slant on things. “Life, it... just meandered along, I suppose. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was unhappy, but...”

“You weren't exactly happy, either,” Benji finishes. “Now, Ethan, he was in an even worse way than you were. While you... and just watch me astonish you with my water analogies here... were floating along in a daze of boredom, Ethan was fighting against the current and, not that I have any plans on sharing this with him any time soon, I think it was slowly beginning to get the better of him. He was tired of both IMF and all the recent internal conflicts, and, while I don't want to say I think it was eventually going to kill him, it... Well, let's just say it wasn't looking good from where I was sitting and leave it at that.” Pausing, he increases the wattage of his smile and delivers a gentle punch to my upper arm. “Just... Look at you both now, though. Ignoring what it might have taken to get here, you're... perfect together. You're... generally happy, you both have a good reason to get up in the morning, and you just... work. I know it's none of my business and all that, but seeing you together just makes me happy and, circling back to what started this, yeah, I'm jealous of what it is you share.”

“You... You don't think we're, I don't know, dysfunctional or something like that?” I query as, both liking and wanting to work with Benji's take on how he sees the relationship Ethan and I share, I hesitantly seek to receive further reassurance from him. “I mean... You don't think we're... uh... too close, or that... I'm too reliant on him, that... it's too much, or... perhaps even just not healthy?”

Shrugging, Benji shifts closer and once again drapes his arm around my shoulders. “I can see why outsiders might perhaps see it that way,” he murmurs, “but they'd be wrong. Jane and I know you both better, I think, than most, and what we see... works. You're both what each other needs. Ethan needed a reason to fight against the apathy he was feeling towards IMF, you needed a reason to just... carry on, and, in each other, you both found what you needed. So what if someone who doesn't know you thinks you're too close, huh? A. What's it got to do with them anyway? B. It's not as though you're hurting anyone. And, C. Like I keep saying, it works. Hell. Everything works. We work as a team, you two work at keeping each other going, and, at the risk of sounding as though I'm falling in to Fast and Furious territory here, we're a family. We love each other and we, all of us, do whatever we can to protect everyone else. It... It's just who we are.”

It's just...

… Who we are.

A team. A... family. And, in the case of Ethan and I, lovers.

Sure, we might be too close, and Ethan might feel too much of a compulsion to protect me while I worry too much about things that, generally, aren't even much of an issue, but like Benji keeps saying...

It works.

We work.

As both an IMF team and, far more importantly, as a family.

A family that I both know, and can never, ever forget, I'm incredibly lucky to have.

Quite literally feeling a sense of relief wash over me, I relax against Benji and smile. “When did you become so wise, huh,” I murmur, gently digging my elbow into his ribs.

“I'd say it was thirty percent alcohol talking,” he replies, gesturing with his free hand towards the scotch bottle, “and seventy percent down to just making a point of both surrounding myself, and learning from, the best. I'm not Ethan, Will, and I don't expect you to listen to me any more than I'd expect to have anything to say to you that you might actually either need or want to hear, but... I'm your friend and, if you need me, I promise to at least always try.”

“Don't be too hard on yourself,” I reply, giving him another dig in his ribs with my elbow as, hearing his phone receive a message from within his pocket, I sit up in order to allow him to retrieve it. “Benji, seriously... Everything you've said to me tonight has been close to perfect. You... saved me from my own nagging thoughts and you offered me a new way of looking at things that, without you, I doubt I ever would have been able to come up with on my own. So... Thank you. I... I really mean it.”

“As I know you'd do the same for any of us, don't mention it,” Benji responds with one of his usual, genuinely happy looking smiles as, standing up, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and quickly reads the message on the screen. “Good news,” he announces, holding his phone towards me even though he'd have to know I wouldn't stand a chance of being able to read the screen from that distance without my glasses. “Operation Diversion, which even if I do say so myself worked out quite well, has now come to its natural conclusion as Ethan is on his way up here in the elevator. Which...” Returning his phone to his pocket, he both grins and bows. “Means my work here is done.”

“Operation Diversion, huh,” I mutter, getting to my feet and, after walking over to him, wrapping my arms around Benji for a quick hug. “You can tell your partner in crime in the other room that your plan worked perfectly,” I add as, looking just a tad smug, Benji returns the hug for a few seconds before gently freeing himself and heading towards the door that connects our two rooms. “Just... Thanks. You have no idea how much you helped.”

“Then my work here is done,” he replies with another bow before, just as I hear the main door begin to open behind me, slipping through the doorway and disappearing.

Turning around, I smile a silent greeting at Ethan as, both closing and locking the door behind him, he flashes a smile that's as relieved as it is tired looking back at me. Dressed not in the suit he left in but in jeans and a long sleeved black T-shirt, he appears to be freshly showered and, always being one to err on the negative side of things, this immediately makes me feel slightly uneasy.

Is he trying to hide something from me? Was it that bad? Did it make him feel that unclean?

“You... You've had a shower,” I murmur lamely as, suddenly not quite knowing what to do with myself, I stand flat footed by the back of the armchair.

“I'd always planned to have a shower before coming back here,” Ethan replies as his smile slips a little and he moves across the room to stand by the other side of the armchair. “In fact, I'd left a change of clothes in the hotel's gym for this very reason. I just... It was just something I wanted to do, that's all, and, come on, Will, you're not to read anything in to it.” Shrugging, he glances down at the all-but-empty bottle of scotch still sitting on the coffee-table and raises an inquiring eyebrow. “Just as, I assume, I'm not to read anything into... that.”

“As it was left behind by my babysitter when the news of your imminent return arrived,” I reply, following Ethan's lead and running with the change in topic, “you can rest assured that the answer is a very definite... no, I haven't given in and turned to alcohol.”

“Babysitter, huh?” he murmurs with a tentative smile. “Don't tell me, let me guess... Jane?”

I shake my head. “Actually, no. It was Benji.”

“Benji?” Ethan echoes, giving me a surprised look. “Okay. Now that, I wasn't expecting.”

“Paper beats rock,” I offer by way of explanation as, for no other reason than I'm just relieved to have Ethan back here with me, I feel the last of my tension up and leave me.

“Of course it does,” he mutters, reaching across the back of the chair and lightly trailing his fingers along my arm. “And... As babysitter's go, how was he?”

“Regretting having gone with rock for a while, I think, but... Good. He was actually really, really good,” I reply as, his fingers reaching mine, I close my hand around his and give it a gentle squeeze. “In fact, he was actually rather brilliant and I think, even though he'd probably brush it off if I were to mention it to him, I may have seen an entirely different side to him.”

“Good,” Ethan smiles as he squeezes my hand back. “You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that.”

“Mmm...” Biting back a sigh, I free my hand from Ethan's and hesitate over how exactly to raise the awkward issue of just where it is he's been and what it is he's been doing. While it would be a blatant lie to say I wanted to know any of the specific details of his time with Miller, at the same time I... do... want to know at least some of it. Not everything, of course, but... Was it okay? Was he.. impressive? Should I... go back to worrying about it? “Uh... What about you? Was it... good?”

“Good?” Ethan repeats, giving me an odd look. “While that, oddly enough, wouldn't exactly have been my first choice of a word to describe it, it... was okay, I suppose,” he murmurs, reaching into the front pocket of his jeans and pulling out a small white bottle that he places down on the coffee-table. “The pills having worked far better than I...”

“Pills?” I interrupt as, not following what it is he's getting at, I glance down at the bottle and frown. “What pills? I don't...”

“The latest and greatest creation from the geeks in the IMF labs,” he replies, gesturing down at the bottle. “While they still have to be dissolved in a drink when he's not looking, they're basically the... anti... little blue pill.”

“Oh.” Well, there you go. Seeing as I didn't know such a pill even existed, it seems as though you really do learn a new thing every day.

“They work a treat, too.”

“Oh...”

“Mmm... So when, you know, it became obvious that, well, it wasn't going to work how he'd been planning it to, he just had to count his losses and settle for a massage instead.”

“Oh.” Yet again. Just... Oh.

“Which, if you saw the amount of hair covering his back,” Ethan adds, wrinkling his nose at the memory, “was more than bad enough in itself.”

“I'm not sure I want to know,” I murmur with a weak smile as I mentally congratulate myself for breaking free from my repetitive, non committal responses. “I... I'm just glad that it's over, that... uh... the pills I didn't even know about were able to... uh... speed things along.”

“You didn't know about...” Stopping himself from continuing, Ethan shrugs and tries unsuccessfully to catch my gaze. “I think they're still in the trial stage,” he adds, “so perhaps they're waiting for more data on them before giving them a wider release.”

“Or maybe they thought they'd be wasted on me as they knew I'd never be in a position to use them,” I retort flatly. “I...” Sighing, I walk around the armchair and sink back down onto the sofa. “Ethan, I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you can't rely on me to play my part and... uh... for inflicting Miller's hairy back on you. I should be expected to be able to...”

“Hey... Shhh...” Sinking down on the sofa next to me, Ethan places his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. “Come on, Will. Don't do this to yourself.”

“You sound like Benji,” I whisper, pressing up against the warmth of Ethan's body and, just as I've done hundreds of times before, resting my head down on his shoulder. “But... I should be able to do everything you...”

“Actually, no. You shouldn't,” Ethan interjects, punctuating his somewhat blunt and to the point statement with a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Oh... And before this goes any further, I just want to say that that's the first time I've ever been told I sound like Benji.”

“He said the same thing, so... You did sound like Benji,” I murmur. “But... Both of you, you're wrong. Of course I have to do this to myself. I... I should be able to do everything you can, but... but I can't, and... It's wrong.”

“And again I have to say... Actually, no. You shouldn't,” he replies, rubbing his hand up and down my upper arm.

“I... I should,” I protest. “Ethan, you're not listening to me. I...”

“And, what? This is you listening to me?”

“I...”

“Come on, William. Stop doing this to yourself and just... think about things from a different angle for a second.”

“I... I'm not normal!” I exclaim, the agitation I'm once again feeling coming through loud and clear in my voice. “Just... What you did tonight. I... I should...”

“Just so you know, this is the last time I'm going to say it, but... No. You shouldn't,” Ethan replies in a calm measured tone as, not for the first time or, I suspect, the last, I marvel at just how patient he is with me. He never gets angry, or storms off in an annoyed huff and he always, regardless of how long it might take or how... stuck in my ways... I might be behaving, manages to get through to me.

And...

… It's only one of the many things I love him for.

“Ethan, please... Surely you've got to see that...”

“You're normal,” he declares matter-of-factly as, keeping his arm around me, he shuffles forward on the sofa in order to better face me. “Just... Listen to what I'm saying here. Will... I know you don't think so, but you're actually incredibly normal.”

“What? How can you say that when...”

“I can say it because you are. What you went through was, and there's no two ways of looking at it, absolutely massive and, yes, it changed you. I mean, of course it changed you. But... You're still here. Yeah, it gets to you, and, fine, there's probably some things you may never be able to do again, but...” Trailing off, Ethan tightens his arm around my shoulders and gives me a sad smile. “Will... That's what makes you far more normal than you think. You... wear... what happened to you, and you live with it. You don't deny or hide from it, and you just live with it every single day. And that, to me, and I know to Jane and Benji as well, makes you normal. Far more normal, in fact, than if you pretended it had never happened. So... Please. Stop being so hard on yourself and try to see things from our point of view. You're human, and you have your issues, issues that those who care about you will always help you with, and... Trust me on this, given your circumstances, you're just... normal. Perhaps even reassuringly so.”

“I...”

“As I can hear the cogs whirring in your head from here, just... Don't,” Ethan interjects, pressing his lips against my forehead for a very soft and lingering kiss. “Don't try to argue with me and just... make your peace with the fact that, as usual, I'm right and you just hadn't thought about things quite in that way before.”

Realising that Ethan – both as usual, and just as he said – happens to be right, I flash him a fond smile and curl my hand around his thigh. “At the risk of giving you an even bigger head,” I murmur, “you may well be on to something there. And... Yeah, yeah. You're also right in that I'd never really thought about things along those lines before.”

I'm not... abnormal because of what happened to me, and, at the same time, I'm... normal because I actually acknowledge it and, again, just as Ethan said, live with it every single day.

I...

I think I can live with that.

“You do things in your own way and in your own time, but, and, really, this is the most important thing, they're always right for you,” Ethan replies as he places his free hand over mine and presses warmly down on it. “Will, you... you're just... you, and no one expects any more from you than you're able to give. So... Please. Cheer up and stop thinking that you should be something other than what you are.”

“I...” Nodding, I relax against Ethan and, as he looks at me hopefully, sneak in a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” I state both softly and plainly. “I never thought I'd be so happy to be referred to as normal.”

“Well, you know, it sounds better than... boring, wouldn't you agree,” Ethan retorts with a smirk that very quickly gives way to a grin when I retaliate by poking my tongue out at him. “Childish, too, I see,” he adds, laughing.

“Just relieved,” I reply, smiling up at him as, seeing no reason whatsoever not to make myself as comfortable as I can, I curl my legs up on to the sofa and, just as I always love doing, press even more closely against Ethan. “In fact, I like... normal... so much that I'll even, if I have to, take boring as a compliment of sorts. I still think I should be expected to be able to... uh... do what you did tonight, but...”

“Even if you could I...” Sighing, Ethan stretches his legs out and, as an unreadable expression settles over his face and he gazes out at nothing in particular in front him, rests his feet on the edge of the coffee-table. “I hadn't had any plans to share this with you, but seeing as you've clearly been dwelling on things more than I'd hoped would be the case, Will, I... It's like this. I did what I had to do tonight not only because I didn't want to put you through it, but also because... Uh... Selfishness. I did it for reasons of complete and utter selfishness.”

Not quite following what Ethan's saying here, I dig my fingers into his thigh to get his attention and, once he's turned his head to face me, give him an expectant look. “You're not really saying that... you wanted to...”

“I'm not saying that at all as, oddly enough, no, I didn't want to see for myself just how hairy Miller actually is at all,” he replies drily as, pulling his hand away from mine, he tilts his head against the back of the sofa and runs his fingers through his hair. “What I'm saying... badly... is I... I'll always be willing to take on the Millers of the world because I'm... selfish enough to know that I simply...” Pausing, he swallows hard and gives me a raw, almost pained look. “I simply couldn't cope with the thought of anyone else touching you,” he finishes, the words falling out of his mouth in a rush. “Just... Be it selfishness, or just plain jealousy, I... I just can't bear the thought of anyone else getting to touch you and... and that's why I'll always put myself forward for, again, the Millers of the world. It... It's for me as much as it is for you.”

“Ethan...” Everything he's just said touching me in a way that I can barely even fully comprehend, let alone try to put into words, I gaze at him as though awestruck and simply... marvel... at how incredibly lucky I am to have him in my life. Perhaps I should view his statement as a declaration of possessiveness, or that he feels he has some sort of proprietary hold over me, but...

I don't.

To me, knowing that Ethan feels this way about me is just, without a word of exaggeration, astonishing. I've always been, to the majority of those I've worked with at IMF, something of a nobody. I was never, because of the way I constantly shifted from field work to being an analyst, one of 'them' and, as such, I didn't really fit in. Then, to the men who used me, I was... nothing, just a 'thing' for them to use any way they saw fit.

I...

I was a nobody.

Then I was... nothing.

And now...

… I'm loved and respected, and...

I have Ethan.

He knows what I've been through, what I've had done over and over again to my body and just how... tarnished... I really am, and yet..

… He can't bear the thought of someone else touching me.

Me.

To anyone else, I'd be used goods. A mess. Not worth their time or effort, and, really, someone to be best avoided.

Yet, to Ethan I'm someone to be both loved and protected. He sees through all my faults and considerable issues and, in return, he means absolutely everything to me.

“Will? I didn't mean to render you mute,” Ethan murmurs as, his expression one of obvious concern, he starts to lift his arm away from my shoulders. “I mean, I'd never stand in the way of anything you wanted to do, and I don't want you to worry about me coming over all... uh... obsessive or possessive, but I... I just wanted you to know that there's always two sides to every story, that I... had my own reasons for taking on the task of Miller myself...”

Realising that my – stunned mullet impression – silence is both unnerving Ethan and causing him to doubt himself, I shift into a kneeling position, gently cup my hands around his cheeks and, leaning forward, settle my lips on his for a moist, lingering kiss. “I don't know how you do it,” I whisper, resting my forehead briefly against his as he slides his arm around my waist, “but somehow you just always know the right thing to say.”

“Even...”

“You have no idea,” I reply, cutting him off with both a grin and another, although far more fleeting this time, kiss. “You just... You give me different ways of looking at things, and you get through to me every time I'm industriously thinking myself into a deep, dark hole, and...” Taking a deep breath, I stroke my fingers along Ethan's cheeks as, he both sits up straighter and wraps his other arm around my waist, add, “I'd be lost with you.”

“You know, as that's exactly how I feel about you too, you took the words right out of my mouth,” Ethan replies as a truly brilliant smile lights up his face and he sneaks in a quick kiss to the tip of my nose. “Will... You and I, this is the life we've chosen for ourself, it's... just what we do, and...”

“We just have to make our peace with it and do the best we can,” I conclude, dropping my arms down onto Ethan's shoulders and once again resting my forehead against his.

And what's more, so long as we do it side by side, I have no doubt whatsoever that we'll make it.

Together.

~ end ~


End file.
